


An Even Sum

by scienceblues



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1, M/M, Mystery Man Jesse McCree, Scion Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 01:50:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15523431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scienceblues/pseuds/scienceblues
Summary: Five times Mystery Man McCree stole from Scion Hanzo, and the one time Scion Hanzo stole him back.





	An Even Sum

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first thing that came to mind when the Scion skin was initially released - I just haven't gotten around to writing it til now, ha. I don't know why I thought the idea of Mystery Man as a vigilante (LOWERCASE, NO BANANA MAN HERE) who Hanzo keeps allowing to rob him because it's for a good cause was funny, but I'm glad I got around to finally writing the thing.
> 
> Don't ask me for a timeline that allows Scion Hanzo to exist, Genji to be alive, and McCree to not be with Blackwatch. If pressed, the best thing I can come up with is that the murder didn't happen, and Genji not being in Blackwatch resulted in McCree leaving it a few years earlier than he did in canon, but just roll with it.
> 
> (I swear this isn't pre-slash because they're obviously into each other but also there's no actual smooching here just fyi)
> 
> Very kindly betaed by [SadinaSaphrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadinaSaphrite/pseuds/SadinaSaphrite)!

1.

“Five minutes,” Hanzo says curtly to the impatient bodyguard, and steps away before she can lodge another protest. The alley behind Rikimaru is only a few hundred feet away from where the car waits to whisk him away to his next appointment, but he still situates himself as close to the front of it as he can while still being out of earshot. He’d rather none of his staff reported back any scandalous details that are liable to surface during the conversation.

He manages to catch his phone on the last ring before voicemail. “Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?” he asks.

“What? No, I’m at home.” Genji sounds annoyed, but Hanzo’s shoulders release their tension nonetheless. “Did you take the town car?”

“It’s the first Monday of the month. Yes, I took the town car.”

A noise of frustration echoes down the line. “I told you I’d need a nice car today! I’m picking my date up in an hour!”

“Use the limo, then.”

“The last time I tried picking her up in the limo, she said it was too much!”

“Beggin’ your pardon.”

Hanzo half-turns and finds the entrance to the alleyway blocked by a large man wearing a cloak and mask, stance wide but loose. His ridiculous outfit is too elaborate to be anything but trouble. Hanzo’s eyes flash to his hip, where an enormous gun sits strapped to his belt. Ah. “Genji, you’ll have to hold. I believe I’m being robbed.”

“You’re _what_?” the receiver squawks, but Hanzo ignores it and lowers the phone to his side as he considers the man in front of him curiously. He’s not sure if someone who would go around robbing wealthy businessmen in expensive suits in a well-known yakuza district is desperate, or just stupid.

“Please tell me you intend to use the money to buy yourself a new outfit,” he says dryly.

The man laughs easily, never taking his eyes off of Hanzo. Not stupid, then. “Nothin’ so self-serving as that. You know the children’s hospital a few neighborhoods away is one of the best in the world? Seems like everyone should be doin’ their part to support their new emergency wing, is all. ‘Specially those who can afford to do a little more than their part.”

Hanzo’s more than aware of the hospital — donations from his great-grandparents laid the foundation for its inception. The man appears convinced enough of the truth of his words, and he supposes he’s due for another donation, regardless.

“If that’s really what it’s going towards,” he says, looking cautiously at the robber in front of him as he withdraws his wallet from the pocket of his dress pants. The man’s made no move towards the holster visible at his side, and Hanzo doesn’t feel like being the one to escalate the situation. Showing up to meetings with blood on his suit isn’t his idea of professional behavior.

“Thank you kindly,” the man says, faultlessly polite as he pockets the thick wad of cash. Petty change, in the grand scheme of a hospital wing. Hanzo will have to look into the situation later. “Always appreciate seein’ those with means contribute to the community.”

“I’m sure you do,” Hanzo replies, amused despite himself. He’s attended enough upscale fundraisers that extracted empty promises from would-be donors that he can appreciate the value of pursuing the funds needed in a more direct manner. “The hospital is lucky to have someone so dedicated advocating for them.”

“You know, you’re actually the first person to see it that way!” The man holds a hand up in a friendly wave as he turns to leave, as if Hanzo hasn’t just let him rob him blind. Surprisingly trusting, for a thief to show his back like that.

Trusting or confident, he supposes.

Hanzo watches curiously as the masked man disappears around the corner, unnoticed even by his bodyguards, then lifts the phone back to his ear. “Take one of the sports cars,” he says briskly, heading for the entrance to the alley.

“ _What the fuck,_ Hanzo _._ ”

“You’ve driven them before; you know what a sports car is,” Hanzo replies, deliberately ignoring his meaning as he slides into the backseat. “Message me later if you need me to send someone to drive you back.”

His mouth tightens when he catches sight of the time displayed on his phone as he hangs up. Even if he didn’t mind the interruption to his schedule, he’ll be hard-pressed to make it to his next appointment on time, which then leaves him at risk of being late to the following three.

Well, then. Hanzo supposes he might as well rearrange his schedule. If he cancels one appointment, he should have enough time for a quick trip to the hospital.

 

2.

“Fancy seein’ you again.”

Before the voice registers, Hanzo begins attempting to hide the small parcel in his hand, but relaxes when he realizes it’s not any of his staff. Or worse, his brother.

“Still working on that hospital wing?” he asks conversationally, unwrapping the paper from around the taiyaki. He takes a bite, unconcerned as the man peels away from the wall to follow him.

“They actually met their fundraising goal, last I heard. Told me the good news when I dropped off my last donation. But as it turns out, the disaster relief fund is runnin’ a little low, and I’d rather see it shored up before the disasters actually happen.” The man continues walking alongside him, pace slightly slower than Hanzo’s to keep even with him. The cloak shifts as he moves, revealing a glint of that obnoxiously massive gun under the material.

Hanzo hides a private smile behind his hand as he brings the snack up to his mouth for another bite. He can’t believe the gall, to rob him in broad daylight not once but twice, and not even in an alley this time. Without even bothering to wave his gun around, no less.

Part of Hanzo wonders — if he was less willing to cooperate, would the man prove to be a very ineffective thief, or a very dangerous one?

He’s rather glad he doesn’t have to find out. After the monotony of endless meetings, with only these few minutes of free time to slip away and indulge in fried food from a street stall, the interruption to his day is amusing enough that the loss of his petty change is worth the diversion. He’d hate to have to kill the man for threatening him outright.

“I should be more upset with you, you know,” Hanzo says, voice mild as he hands over almost all the cash in his wallet. He won’t completely discount the idea of stopping at another stall on his walk back to the compound; it’s not often that he’s left alone without anyone to look over his shoulder. “My brother keeps teasing me about this mystery man I met in an alley. I don’t think he believes I lost the money through robbery.”

The man laughs, the sound emerging loud and carefree through the scarf wrapped around his face. Nobody so much as turns to stare at the brash display, the residents of this part of town too accustomed to steadfastly diverting their gaze away from men in expensive suits.

“Tell you what,” the man finally says.“Call me Jesse. Act less coy about it, see if that doesn’t get him off your case.”

“For your sake and mine, I hope so,” Hanzo says. “I might not be so happy to see you next time, otherwise.”

“Just remember you’re the one who said there’ll be a next time, not me,” Jesse says breezily.

This time, it’s Hanzo’s turn to laugh too loudly.

 

3.

Hanzo can only admire Jesse’s audacity when he spots a familiar face while waiting in line for the coat check at the theater.

No doubt the others think it amusing that one of the actors has taken it upon himself to fill in for a missing staff member, in full costume, no less. If not for the fact that Hanzo has become accustomed to only seeing a stripe of exposed face, he might be inclined to believe that there really was a staffing shortage.

When he gets to the front of the line, he takes a moment to enjoy how Jesse’s eyes widen in alarm under the costume mask, larger and more elaborate than the plain one he usually wears. Indulgently, he holds out both his coat and his billfold in front of him. “I presume you’ll be going through the coats for these later,” Hanzo says, keeping his voice down. As he watches, Jesse discreetly relieves the billfold of its contents before slipping it back into one of the pockets of the coat.

Jesse dutifully hands him the small card matching the one on the hanger his coat now sits on and flashes a friendly smile. “Enjoy the show, sir.”

 

4.

Half an hour into the train ride to Nagoya, Hanzo hears someone politely clear their throat next to his seat before a familiar voice asks, “This seat taken?”

Hanzo looks up in surprise and then looks again, up and down. The cloak is missing, revealing a trim vest over a dress shirt and pants, but the scarf is wrapped around the lower half of his face once more. As Jesse tips his hat up, he sees the mask is also still firmly in place. No trace of the gun, although Hanzo’s confident he’s hiding it somewhere on his person.

“I can’t believe they let you on the train still looking like a bandit,” Hanzo says, shifting his briefcase from the empty seat next to him to the floor under his seat.

“Hey, it’s cold out there!” Jesse takes the seat and immediately stretches his legs out in front of him, effectively blocking Hanzo from the aisle. Strangely, he doesn’t feel boxed in. “And technically they didn’t _let_ me on.”

The corner of Hanzo’s mouth curls up in amusement. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised anymore. “Couldn’t afford to purchase a ticket with all the cash you’ve drummed up recently?”

“Excuse me, this here’s a not-for-profit operation!” Jesse sounds indignant at the idea of using any of the money he’s stolen. “Just felt like stowin’ away, is all. It’ll make my escape easier when there’s no record of me gettin’ on in the first place.”

“More dramatic, too,” Hanzo points out.

“That too,” Jesse concedes. “What’re you doin’ on here, anyway?”

“Business trip. First Nagoya, then Osaka for a week, and back home after that.” Hanzo lifts an eyebrow, suddenly suspicious. “You mean you chose this train at random?”

Jesse puts a hand over his heart, the picture of innocence apart from the mask. “Promise, darlin’, I was already on my way out of town. Runnin’ into you was just a bonus.”

Hanzo snorts inelegantly. “Flatterer.” He looks sideways at Jesse reclining comfortably against the seat and asks, “Do you need anything to read for the trip?”

“Nah, I’ve got my own readin’ to catch up on,” Jesse says, withdrawing a battered comm device from the pocket of his vest. It’s hard to tell, with Jesse’s grip on it blocking most of the details, but it looks military-grade — not something he’d expect to see him using. “Appreciate the offer, though.”

They sit in comfortable silence for the remainder of the trip, with Jesse gallantly allowing him use of the shared armrest. Hanzo politely pretends to ignore the occasional glance flickering in his direction until Jesse puts away the old-fashioned device twenty minutes before they’re due to arrive, heaving out a put-upon sigh.

“Time to get this show on the road,” Hanzo hears him mutter to himself, before he stands from his seat and raises his voice to carry throughout the car. “‘Scuse me, but I’m gonna need everyone in here to please pass any and all cash you’ve got on you to the person in your row who’s facing the aisle. Let’s keep this all orderly, if you please.”

While the rest of first class fumbles for their valuables, Hanzo holds his wallet up between two fingers, still engrossed in his book. The weight lifts away and then returns a moment later, significantly lighter than before.

“What’s it going towards this time?” Hanzo asks absently, tucking it away again.

“One of the local animal shelters is raising money for more kennels. I figure a new building entirely will do nicely.” Jesse tips his hat in farewell as he moves out into the aisle. “Pleasure doin’ business with you, as always.”

When the police meet the train at the station to search fruitlessly for Jesse, Hanzo has to fight to make himself look as disgruntled as the other passengers.

 

5.

The view truly is worth every bit of the price, Hanzo muses, standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall of the hotel suite. He hasn’t spent any significant amount of time in Osaka for years, and certainly not enough for the skyline to bring anything other than a vague sense of marvel that the city managed to replicate its pre-Crisis state so accurately. But there’s something to be said for having a different view than the one he sees every day, even if he has to keep the lights in the room dimmed to properly appreciate it.

Faintly, he hears the click of the main door closing. Hanzo looks down at his glass, swirling the liquid around to hear the ice clink inside as he waits to be acknowledged.

“Figured anyone who reserved the presidential suite for a week could afford a little donation. Guess I was right.”

Hanzo ignores the grandstanding and turns after he’s finished surveying the city, pouring out another glass of bourbon from the minibar he leans against. “I have room service for two on the way. Would you like to join me for dinner before you leave to save more orphans?”

A knock sounds on the door while Jesse wavers, looking at the chair as if debating the likelihood of it being a trap, and Hanzo can see the flinch that he suppresses at the sudden sound. “My cash is on the table by the door. Tip generously,” he says, then takes another slow sip of the bourbon while he waits.

As expected, Jesse moves for the door after his indecision passes. Hanzo feels suddenly pleased he remembered to withdraw a few million yen before checking in to his room, anticipating that Jesse might find his way here. Small change, nothing that will affect the balance of his many bank accounts, but more than enough to ensure Jesse continues to play their little game.

The muffled conversation at the door lasts for only a brief moment. Once Hanzo hears the whisper of well-oiled wheels on carpet, he carries the bottle and both glasses over to the hardwood table set in the middle of the room, backlit by the city lights through the windows.

He takes a seat just as Jesse wheels the cart around the corner. Jesse steps forward when Hanzo gestures to the chair across the table from him, but still looks hesitant; he visibly steels himself before sweeping the cloak off his shoulders and around the back of the chair. As it moves, Hanzo appreciates the metallic shine of the silver thread forming the geometric pattern for the first time since they started running into each other. With the cloak off, neatly groomed in his neat vest and pants, Jesse almost looks as if he’s attending an actual business dinner.

Well. Hanzo’s suit is much more expensive, and Jesse still sports the mask. But he certainly does clean up nicely.

“You sure you didn’t order for four instead of two?” Jesse remarks dryly, lifting the covers of a few dishes to inspect their contents. He sets a few dishes onto the stretch of table between his place setting and Hanzo’s, then spots the bottle Hanzo brought over and lets out a low, impressed whistle. “Now _that_ looks nice. Tryin’ to give me somethin’ fond to remember you by?”

“Are you planning to move on to Osaka next?” Hanzo has to suppress a pang of disappointment at the thought, and then mild annoyance at how much he’s come to look forward to seeing how Jesse will manage to disrupt his tightly scheduled day.

Jesse shrugs and pops a dumpling into his mouth, tilting his head consideringly as he chews. “I probably should, to be honest. Tokyo’s big, for sure, but it hasn’t got an endless supply of rich folks to tap. Better to move on before anyone gets serious about stoppin’ me.”

Hanzo takes another sip of the bourbon to cover his frown. “I did not take you for the kind of man that could be easily stopped.”

“Well, I figure it’s only a matter of time before I run into someone who turns out to be government or yakuza. Not sure which would be worse, to be honest. Used to be nothin’ I couldn’t handle, but I don’t have any backup to bail me out anymore, so best not to stir that hornet’s nest.”

Hanzo tugs his left sleeve down further, a smile playing about his face. “You’ll be returning to Hanamura in time for the festival, surely.”

Jesse opens his mouth to answer and then shuts it again, considering. “When might that be?”

“In three weeks. You’ve been to the park in the center of town, I’m sure? The blossoms will be in full bloom by then, and it makes for a pleasant walk around the lake.”

Jesse looks down at his glass, brow furrowed, before he takes another drink and sets it back down on the table. The fine lines around his eyes crinkle attractively as he turns a crooked smile towards Hanzo. “For you, darlin’, I’ll have to see if I can clear my schedule.”

 

+1

Jesse doesn’t show at the festival.

This time, Hanzo allows himself to feel the full force of his disappointment — mostly at Jesse, to be honest, but some of it is directed at himself as well.

He does take a walk around the lake, as he’d planned, watching the occasional blossom fall to float on the water’s surface as he goes. It certainly would’ve been more enjoyable with company, but it’s hard not to become caught up in the view.

Hanzo fully forgets about Jesse until later that night, as he pores over reports. The cherry blossoms bring a predictable influx of visitors, including those with unsavory connections, and as such Hanzo takes care to position more guards around the city on festival days, unwilling to sacrifice the smallest bit of intel.

One of the transcribed bits of conversation catches his eye, and when he selects it, his stomach does an unpleasant flip. The name of the rival clan attached to the report does him no favors, either. He takes only a minute to debate over the wisdom of his actions before he discards his suit jacket, rolls up his sleeves, and straps an odachi across his back.

Jesse’s lucky that his ridiculous cloak is unusual enough to comment on.

Linking an earpiece to the network his guards share allows Hanzo to circle around town while listening for areas of notably increased activity, eventually leading him to a cheap hotel on the border of the industrial district. Clearly a front.

In that case, nobody will come running towards any noise that might result.

He finds what he’s looking for on the second floor, in a room tucked into the very corner of the building, and searches for any part of the window that isn’t covered by the curtains. From the miniscule gap he finds, he can see Jesse, alive but roughly handled, tied to a sturdy chair against the far wall with his cloak thrown carelessly to the ground. As Hanzo watches, a punch lands squarely on his cheekbone, knocking the mask askew.

The room is too cramped to safely draw his sword, but Jesse’s revolver sits unguarded on a chair close to the entrance.

He breathes deeply through his nose to steady himself before kicking the door sharply. The cheap plywood stands no chance of holding up against the force of his entire body weight, splintering around him as it slams open and bounces against the far wall. The distraction allows Hanzo to grab the gun and shoot at the two men closest to him. The first two shots go wide with the unexpected force of the revolver’s kickback, but Hanzo growls and adjusts for the weight, and the next two find their way into one guard’s chest as he scrambles to stand upright after the shock of nearly having the door slam into him.

Not his neatest work, but it would do. The last remaining shots punch neatly through two more guards’ skulls as they attempt to catch their footing and draw their own weapons, sending them to the already-crowded floor. The last guard lunges across the pile of bodies, drawing a knife as he goes, but Hanzo neatly sidesteps the blade’s arc.

With the barrel empty of bullets — why a professional would favor a six-shooter, Hanzo cannot fathom — he snaps the heavy weight of the gun down against the final assailant’s temple, striking him down to the floor with the rest of his fellows. Satisfied with the results, he turns back to the chair positioned at the back of the room and finds Jesse gaping at him.

After half a minute of tense silence, Jesse clears his throat and looks around the room, eyes flitting uneasily between the bodies lying sprawled across the floor. “Have to say, I don’t usually like another man handlin’ my weapon, but that was somethin’ else.”

“I would’ve thought the opposite, considering all the trouble you’ve gone to in the past to get me alone,” Hanzo remarks mildly, leaning over the cuffs restraining Jesse’s hands. Electromagnetic, and strong, to effectively contain the prosthetic arm. Hanzo strips the black glove off of one hand so he doesn’t burn a hole through it. A brief whisper to the dragons, and a fraction of their power gathers in his fingertip.

The cuffs fall away with a delicate touch to their surface, silencing Jesse’s outraged sputter over his comment. Hanzo watches him rub at his wrists, then delicately prod the raw abrasion on his face, wincing all the while.

Jesse finally breaks the silence with the obvious. “So you’re, uh—” He gestures at the tattoo that runs the exposed length of Hanzo’s forearm, revealed by the cuffs he rolled earlier. “Kinda thought that would’ve come up before, to be honest.”

“Are you saying that would’ve scared you away?” Hanzo asks as he replaces his glove, finger still tingling from the electrical discharge. Jesse’s gaze helplessly follows the movement of the fabric, watching Hanzo tugs it firmly back into place and readjust the other until they both lay flat and neat.

“C’mon now, ain’t right to tease a man when he’s still reelin’ from bein’ kidnapped,” Jesse complains. “Guess I never thought about what kind of business you’re in. Never caught your name, either.”

“Shimada Hanzo.”

“ _Shit_.”

Hanzo can only nod his agreement.

He settles the cloak around Jesse’s shoulders to hide the worst of the blood on the clothes beneath, but folds the scarf over his own arm. Jesse doesn’t look like he’s in any shape to keep its trailing ends in check, and it matches Hanzo’s vest too well for him to feel any remorse in claiming it for his own.

“What, uh. What do I call you, then?”

“I did like when you called me sir,” Hanzo says absently.

Jesse wheezes out a pained breath. “Gonna kill me,” he mutters.

Shifting his grip, Hanzo ensures Jesse is steady on his feet before letting him stand on his own. “The opposite, actually. I’m taking you to my doctor. We keep one on call at the castle, in case of emergencies.” He looks sidelong at Jesse as they begin to make their slow way out of the wrecked hotel room. “She may have to remove your mask if you want your face cleaned and bandaged.”

“Fine by me.” There’s a hitch in Jesse’s gait before he laughs faintly and resumes limping his way down the hotel stairs. “What are you gonna do, finally report me to the police?”

Hanzo’s startled burst of laughter blends with Jesse’s as they start down the street, leaning against each other as they go.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback always appreciated!
> 
> ETA: [Freebooter4ever](http://freebooter4ever.tumblr.com/) did a lovely [drawing](http://freebooter4ever.tumblr.com/post/181669315979/) of the last scene of this! It was such a wonderful surprise - and dead-on for the two of them in this!


End file.
